“Please forgive me. "Ja, ja, Muntmeester," said the Dutchman, removing the pipe from his mouth, and speaking in a deep and guttural voice, "leave the affair to Johannes. ‘Like you?’ ‘But I am not French. She had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. He had done it. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class.
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